Chryed Angry
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: I'm sorry but.


'He is going to kill me.'

Christian looked at the crutch resting against the chair next to him and then down to his heavily bandaged foot. He wondered whether he could bear to read the leaflet on Irritable Bowel Syndrome for the seventh time, or if he should hobble across to the display stand and select some more, he hadn't looked through breast feeding tips or sexually transmitted diseases yet.

There was a woman sitting in front of him, wearing an eye patch. He stared intently at the back of her head, willing her to discard the dog eared copy of Hello that she had been leafing through for the last hour, finding himself so bored that the prospect of looking at pictures of Kerry Katona had become intensely exciting.

He looked at his watch in unhappy disbelief, sure that more than five minutes must have elapsed since the last time he checked, then up at the red LCD display bar on the wall, desperate for his name to appear.

'My name in lights' he mused. His head had started to throb almost as badly as his ankle and he cursed himself for being an idiot, then felt comforted with the fact that at least he hadn't been the young man bundled past on a trolley two hours ago, pushed by an orderly whose face streamed with tears of mirth, trying to hold in the laughter at the man's claim he had 'fallen' on the vacuum cleaner hose attachment by accident.

Christian's name flashed up and, with relief, he manoeuvred himself up clumsily, limping over to pick up his painkillers and arrange an appointment with outpatients. Thanking the nurse profusely, he turned unsteadily as the double doors burst open and Syed rushed in, a blur of wild hair and concern.

Christian leant against the desk to keep his balance as he was wrapped in a hug, kisses rained onto his face.

"Christian! I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, I left you waiting here all on your own! I only just got Jane's message, the reception on my phone was crap. All I could hear was something about Bobby messing about in the playground and falling and you having to go to casualty. And you're hurt! A proper bandage, is it really bad? I thought you went to the pub for lunch. What happened? Did you break his fall?"

Christian took his arm, trying unsuccessfully to interject as he gabbled on, and they moved slowly out into the car park, Syed gazing at him all the while with concern.

Christian heaved himself painfully into the waiting taxi.

"You didn't need to come sweetheart. They say it's only a sprain, I just need to rest it for a few days."

Syed handed over Christian's grey metal crutch and settled down beside him.

"Back to Albert Square Walford please" he told the driver and grabbed Christian's hand, intertwining their fingers. he leant against him on the back seat, cocooned in the black worn leather, trying not to breathe in the acrid smell of magic tree air freshener.

Christian shifted his foot uncomfortably.

"I thought you'd be mad. I'll have to cancel all this weeks clients."

Syed twisted his head and smiled up at him.

"Mad? You were helping Bobby, why would I be angry? Anyway, we could both do with a rest, I'll look after you, you'll have to rely on me for everything. I'm going to enjoy it. I'll get you settled at home, then I'll pop out and get us some steak for dinner, build up your strength, and a dvd. I could give you a massage later with that orange oil you like, get rid of that horrible antiseptic hospital smell." his eyes were bright with happiness at the prospect.

Christian stared guiltily out of the cab window, hardly seeing the houses, trees and graffiti covered walls flash by as they sped back to Walford. He wrestled with his conscience, enjoying Syed's concern for him, opting not to point out that he'd only turned his ankle and not developed some terrible wasting disease, looking forward to being fussed over and pampered. He couldn't be quite sure what version of events Syed had been told, and as the miles increased between the hospital and home, he was beginning to worry that he may have left it a little too late to tell him the truth.

The taxi squeaked to a halt in front of their blue front door and Syed jumped out to pay the driver, waiting patiently as Christian limped onto the pavement, allowing him to lean against him, buckling slightly under his muscular weight.

As the key went into the lock, Christian heart sank at the sound of approaching boyish giggles.

"Ha ha ha! Uncle Christian!"

Bobby pointed at Christian's leg. Syed turned, halfway into the hallway, and gave him a stern look.

"Bobby, don't be so ungrateful. After what Uncle Christian did for you."

Bobby's eyes flicked from Syed to Christian, confused. Christian could tell that, being Ian's son, he was weighing up the situation and wondering if there might be anything to be gained from it financially.

Christian furtively mimed a zipping motion across his mouth and the counting out of imaginary money.

Bobby looked innocent, enjoying his uncle's suffering with a childish glee.

"What did Uncle Christian do for me?" he asked artlessly.

Christian shook his head furiously and tried to put his hands together in a pleading gesture, dropping his crutch in the process.

Syed bent down to pick it up and handed it back, glancing between the two of them, his suspicions aroused.

"Saving you from falling in the playground, it's a good job he was passing. I hope your Dad has had a few words with you about it, mucking around like that, it's very dangerous."

An angelic expression crossed Bobby's features.

"He said I should learn a lesson from it."

Syed nodded in approval and Christian mouthed 'Thank you.'

A subtle change came over Bobby's face and Christian could swear he almost saw him sprout horns.

"He said I should learn not to be a prat like Uncle Christian, getting tipsy on beer at lunch time and showing off by jumping from the top of the slide."

Christian saw with dismay the tightening of Syed's neck muscles and knew he was in big trouble.

"He dared me." he bleated feebly, pointing at Bobby.

Syed turned slowly, his voice low, the calm before the storm.

"He dared you?"

Christian nodded and chanced a small, hopefully winning, smile.

"He dared you?" Syed continued, his eyes dark with fury, his fists clenched.

"He's a child Christian. You are a grown man, well, allegedly, though quite obviously you can't behave like one. What if he had tried to copy you? He could break his neck.."

"I wouldn't be that stupid" Bobby chimed in, unhelpfully.

"Exactly Bobby. You wouldn't be that stupid. But this big oaf, oh no. Gets pissed when he tells me he was only going for a pint and a sandwich.."

"But I…"

Christian tried to cut in, but Syed was in full flow, his voice rising in anger, causing passers by to pause and point.

"Puts himself in danger in a kiddies playground pretending he's Superman, setting a rubbish example to his nephew, lying to me, wasting everyone's afternoon, losing work and money."

Bobby, initially entertained by the row he had helped to start, was bored of the adults shouting now, realising it might have been more fun, and profitable, to go for the blackmail angle. He mooched off, whistling, to find some other mischief, leaving Christian propped helplessly against the wall while Syed stood very close to him yelling and waving his arms around.

"You twat Christian, you complete and utter idiotic stupid twat. What have you got to say for yourself?"

Christian looked shamefaced and mumbled.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry. Is that it? That's all you've got? Anything else?"

Christian thought for a moment, then, tilting his head to one side and raising one eyebrow, answered quietly;

"If it helps at all, I'm really turned on."

Syed felt all of his rage wheeze out of him like a deflated balloon. He started to laugh and let his eyes travel across from Christian's crutch to his crotch.

"Me too, you sod. Race you upstairs."


End file.
